


12. All Glory to the Qun

by ellie_effie



Series: Beyond the Veil Artober 2020 [12]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Bull's Chargers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26991778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellie_effie/pseuds/ellie_effie
Summary: The Iron Bull stood in the middle of the tavern, the pieces of the chair Kremused to sit were scattered around him. Contrary to what his appearance may suggest, the Bull was incredibly peaceful and calm, who rarely raised his voice or started a fight. And yet the sight of his friend’s empty chair did something to him.
Series: Beyond the Veil Artober 2020 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947253
Kudos: 4
Collections: Beyond the Veil's Artober Event





	12. All Glory to the Qun

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Chargers

“I… I’m sorry, Cabot. I will repay you. Somehow.”

The Iron Bull stood in the middle of the tavern, the pieces of the chair Krem

used to sit were scattered around him. Contrary to what his appearance may suggest, the Bull was incredibly peaceful and calm, who rarely raised his voice or started a fight. And yet the sight of his friend’s empty chair did something to him.

Krem was dead. They were all dead. They had died in front of his eyes and he had done nothing to stop the damned Venatori. The Qun always came first. “Asit tal-eb”, he whispered to himself when he saw his friends' motionless bodies on top of the hill. “The way things are meant to be” are rarely the way we wish they were, it’s what he had been told his whole life.

In his mind, to have kept it together all the way from the Storm Coast to Skyhold was the least that was expected from a qunari. To break down and attack the chair was a sign of weakness, one that he shouldn’t have allowed himself. Even if Cabot paid no mind and swiftly picked up the broken pieces of wood to throw in the fire. 

“Taashath-ost, itwasaam”, the Bull repeated as he helped the bartender sweep and apologized to the tavern’s other patrons. “Without calm, we all fall.” But they had already fallen, his men, his group. When he felt the tears prickling behind his shut eyes, the Bull let out a loud growl to remind himself: that wasn’t the we he belonged to. He belonged in the Qun, and the Qun had not, could not, fall. 

Later that night, when he was chugging down his sixth mug of ale (or seventh? Oh, who was even counting any more), Sera came downstairs and sat next to him. She was a good kid, with a heart of gold, the Bull had no doubt. But she couldn’t possibly understand. When she dared to compare her ragtag band of petty thieves and pickpockets to his men, the Bull stood from his chair without saying a word.

“Oy, sorry! I meant nothing by that!”, the young elf shouted and Bull turned back. “I just meant that I get it, y’know. What you’re going through.”

_ Insolent little bas!  _ The thought came so quickly to his mind that it surprised him. When was the last time he had thought of anybody in those terms.

“You don’t, Sera. And I would appreciate it if you don’t pretend that you do.”

The Iron Bull marched back to his quarters, ignoring Sera’s snappy reply. It was time he reported back, to let the Qun know his allegiance remained fully and unequivocally with them.

“Ataash varin kata, Viddasala!”, he began. If he was to find glory in the end, it would only be found within the Qun. 

  
  



End file.
